


Ain't No Ash Will Burn

by oliveriley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Bluegrass, F/F, Joniss - Freeform, ironically i'm listening to lil jon while i type this instead of the song it's based on, is that even a necessary tag or
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:35:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliveriley/pseuds/oliveriley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>content warning: adult language, allusion to drug use/relapse</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I don't own anything but the little ficlet here. None of the characters. Not the song. Not any of the twenty six letters I have manipulated for your reading pleasure. Not even the concept of Jo koala-ing, which is by far my favorite headcanon ever.</p>
<p>However, if you're interested in the cover I used, look up Della Mae's cover of "Ain't No Ash Will Burn" because it's my favorite cover of that song.</p>
<p>Also this was way prettier in my handwriting I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't No Ash Will Burn

The house was unassuming in the dark. A light was on in the back of the house, low and warm and inviting. From Haymitch's porch one could make out two tired silhouettes swathed in the whiskey-colored light, amber and glowing. The tension was gone, much like a calm before a storm, having broken earlier with the ferocity of a hurricane, all harsh words and whirling skies.

\--

 

_"I'll fucking leave then!" The shorter woman screeched, glaring at the olive-skinned woman across the room. "Annie and Finn - they need someone." Her eyes glassed with unshed tears, jaw set proudly. Her body was stiff and trembled with the effort of her stillness. She was convinced that this would not break her. She was not broken if she needed relief. She would not break for her partner. She would not break under the unwavering, disappointed gaze. Not if she didn't break when Katniss ripped the syringe out of her hands and snapped it, flushing it down the toilet that now needed fixing. Johanna fucking Mason did not break._

_Katniss sighed heavily, exhausted gray eyes trained on the slight woman before her. "Johanna, no. Annie and Finn need someone like my mother. They have her. She won't use. Finn is not in danger - there's no chance of him finding anything. No needles; no bottles." It was a low blow, she new, and saw it register in Johanna's face and her hard eyes. Her heart broke when she said it, but not as much as it shattered when the already venomous glare turned spiteful._

_"Fuck you," Johanna ground out, voice dangerously even. "You won't even stop me." It was a dare, as clear as day, and sat with pregnant pause in the yawning space between them._

_"Take that forsaken cat with you when you go," Katniss spat, unceremoniously tossing her mug with the rest of her tea in the sink with a final, resounding 'thud' that would echo through the cavernous house, joined by the slamming of the door, following her upstairs to bed. This is where she collapsed, a small heap in a too-big bed, curled beneath the covers in a too-warm bedroom. This is where her broken sobs finally choked out from the place they had been settled between her ribs, thick like the coal dust that blackened the lungs of miners in Twelve. The full and heavy sadness, she considered as it weighed her down and pinned her to the bed, was just as toxic._

__

_Time had stilled in the bedroom. The changes in light didn't even register with the raven-haired woman as she lay, mummified in the stifling comforter. An ironic name, considering it provided her with little comfort besides the smell of the life they had built over the last seven years. The heady scent was a mixture of the familiar woods in her home district and a crisp, sharp piney smell that followed Johanna everywhere. Somewhere in the mix there was sugar from the insatiable sweet tooth both women shared that was nourished by the bakery that Peeta had readily returned to. It was a smell that would always bring to mind one word for Katniss:_ home. _She wasn't sure when she fell in love. She wasn't sure when she realized that this house was not a home - no house would ever be a home without Johanna Mason. And it killed her._

\--

 

In the kitchen, Johanna was wrapped tightly around Katniss, murmuring against her clavicle. Katniss ran her fingers through her partner's short hair, every so often planting a soft kiss on her temple. Speakers with little previous use had cackled to life, filling the house with gentle, crooning bluegrass music. Their bodies swayed, though neither knew when it began nor whom it was who initiated it. And for the first time in several years, Katniss's voice came back to life, too.


End file.
